


Chasing Some Mirage

by monkiainen



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Feeling Inadequate, Fighting, It's Okay to have Feelings, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, Scars, Showing Fear is not a Weakness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 15:11:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9390425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monkiainen/pseuds/monkiainen
Summary: Thranduil does not want to look weak in front of anyone. He is a king, after all, and he must stay strong no matter the cost.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mm8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mm8/gifts).



_Smoke and ashes and people screaming, chaos everywhere. What is happening? What is that? It… can't be. No. It's a dragon, breathing fire, creating havoc and destroying everything on its way. Those stupid, greedy dwarfs. Thráin should have listened to his advice, but the old fool was too deep in the throes of the gold madness._

_And now everything is burning, burning, burning…_

Thranduil wakes up with a gasp, drenched in cold sweat. He knows what brought these dreams up again, after so many years of peaceful nights. It's Thorin bloody Oakenshield and his company, on their way to Erebor. Any sane man would know that dealing with dragons is dangerous, and will cause nothing but pain. But Thorin is no sane man, nor even a sane dwarf, if he thinks he can conquer his kingdom back from Smaug with a company made of 11 dwarfs… and a hobbit.

What an arrogant fool. Thorin should know better. He has already lost everything, so why bother? Thranduil nearly lost everything, too, but by sheer luck he is still alive. He shouldn't be, not when so many of his elves lost his life and he was scarred for life. Elven healing can do great many things, but it can never heal injuries caused by dragon fire. So Thranduil suffers in silence, hiding his scars behind an illusion because he do not want anyone's pity. Pity is for weaklings and common people, and Thranduil is neither. He has a kingdom to take care of after all.

Smaug causes nothing but destruction all over again and it's Thorin's fault. Stupid, arrogant dwarf.

Smoke and ashes and ruins and people of Lake-town begging for help. Thranduil has never been able to stand the man that calls himself the Master, and thus turns his back to the Men. He has to take care of his own people first before he can even consider helping others. As far as Thranduil is concerned, the Master does not deserve his help.

A man they call Bard the Bowman requests to see Thranduil. The elven king has heard of the man, and how he had been the one to kill Smaug. It seems only fitting, as Bard is the descendant of the Lord Girion himself. Thranduil agrees to meet the man, only because of curiosity. He remembers Girion as a noble and humble man, and the conversations they had over a bottle of wine late at night. 

Meeting Bard is nothing like Thranduil imagined it would be. He realises with a jolt that Bard is very alluring; in a way that makes Thranduil weak in the knees. Metaphorically speaking, of course, because Thranduil is never weak. He is a king after all.

And so the elven king leads his army to the battle against orcs, side by side with dwarfs and men of Dale. There is blood, so much blood, and death all around him, and it feels like he is still stuck to the first day when Smaug first appeared. It's a loop, going around endlessly and never stopping.

The dreams never stop, and Thranduil does his best not to sleep. He has no time for sleep anyway, not now when they have to rebuild Dale and help the blasted dwarves. Thranduil can manage with little sleep, he always has. Nobody questions the king not sleeping, and when he does it's restless sleep filled with nightmares and delusions. But the king is strong, the king does not need any help. The king is not weak.

Somewhere along the way Bard becomes the king of Dale, and they start seeing each other more frequently. There are contracts to be made, treaties to be signed, cities to be rebuilt. Thranduil feels more and more drawn to Bard.

They dance around each other for a while before either of them makes a move. They are both widowers with children, so they both know what a loss of a loved one feels like. Bard is the one to make the first move, because as he says to Thranduil later on, "he only has this one lifetime to live, and he would be a fool not to listen to his heart." Thranduil does not listen to his heart, only because he has forgotten over the centuries what it feels like to have one. Slowly but surely Bard makes his way through the invisible barriers Thranduil has built, only to discover that the elven king does not remember anymore how to show his feelings.

They fight, yes they do. Bard accuses Thranduil of being a heartless monster, devoid of any emotions. Thranduil does not understand what Bard is talking about. Has he not been a good king? A loving father? He has been strong and unyielding in times of great danger and sadness, not showing weakness to his enemies. That does not make him a monster.

_He is burning, he is burning and it hurts so bad. He screams and screams but there is no sound coming from his mouth. Oh how he wishes to be dead instead of this agonizing pain… The dragon is here, destroying everything._

No. This will not do. He is **not** weak nor a child – these dreams must stop. Thranduil gets up from his bed, ignoring how he's covered in cold sweat and how his whole body is shaking uncontrollably. He needs to get to his cabinet, now, before someone comes in and sees him like… _this_ , scared of old memories and things of past. He is the king and the king is never weak. With shaking hands Thranduil opens the cabinet, uncovering the small vial clear liquid on it. The mirror behind the cabinet shows him the way he truly is when the glamour he usually has up is gone – scarred, horrible, ugly, _weak_. A little voice whispers inside his head that Thranduil deserves this, for being a coward and not helping the dwarves when Smaug first arrived. He now must live with his errors every single day. Thranduil downs the contents of the vial with one gulp, and then slowly makes his way back to his bed. Before Thranduil falls to a dreamless sleep, his last thought is that it's fortunate Bard wasn't there to see him like this.

The next morning Thranduil does not want to get up. No. It's useless, he's useless, why should he bother? Thranduil burrows himself even deeper under his duvets, chasing the dreamless sleep. Sleep comes, but not in the form Thranduil wants to – everything smells of ash and fire, and he is burning, _burning_ again. Someone is closing on him, and Thranduil needs to protect himself so he jumps up and grabs the dagger from his nightstand and slashes…

Bard is fast with his reflexes, but not as fast as elves. What could have a fatal hit is just a long gash in Bard's arm, bleeding heavily. Thranduil lets the dagger fall from his hand, and it clatters loudly to the floor. This is it. This is the end. Thranduil is too weak, and Bard will walk away from his life. They all do after a while. 

Bard hesitates for a moment before reaching out with his uninjured hand, pulling Thranduil closer. The shock of Bard willingly _touching_ him nearly paralyzes Thranduil, until he leans in to Bard's embrace. Maybe it's okay to be weak after all.


End file.
